


the bucket list

by allhalethekings



Series: Tumblr Fics [19]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Future Fic, M/M, Writer!Derek, grad student!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8343580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allhalethekings/pseuds/allhalethekings
Summary: When Derek was young, the only thing he ever wanted to do was travel. Ten years after leaving Beacon Hills for good, he finally has the chance. He just never expected to run into Stiles in Scotland, of all places.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt for my 1k follower giveaway contest for [lucyjeannette](http://lucyjeannette.tumblr.com): Sterek facing their demons and helping each other. 
> 
> May not be exactly what they had in mind but this is my take on it.

As a teenager, Derek had several items marked down on his bucket list. Some were things he wanted to achieve by the time he finished college; make captain for the basketball team, get a full-ride scholarship, attend Berkeley.

Others were more long-term; grow old, have a family, settle down.

The most important one on the list though was travel. He wanted to see the world, immerse himself in different cultures, eat the local foods, wander aimlessly late into the night. His parents had traveled together for a year after college and had regaled their kids with tales of getting lost, being chased by cows, watching the sunrise from the biggest hill in the city.

Laura had gone traveling for a year too after graduating from college, intent to start a new Hale family tradition. Every week, she’d be in a new city, making new friends, drinking wolfsbane-laced brews with the locals. So Derek patiently listened to her stories after she came back, made notes on cities she thought he _had_ to visit and foods he _had_ to try, all the while starting a running countdown on his phone for when it’s be his turn to fulfill the tradition.

Then the fire happened.

His pack was wiped out, his home decimated into rubble, and overnight, his bucket list went from a list filled with some fifteen odd things to just one: survive.

Four years later, Laura dies too. Three months after that, he’s forced to kill his only remaining family—Peter. And suddenly, Derek’s all alone. He’s an Alpha with a target on his back with a steadfast urge to create a pack, two teenaged idiots who want nothing to do with him, and a family full of hunters just waiting for him to fuck up.

He breathes easily for the first time when he gets Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. Scott is kind of there and so is Stiles. But then, there’s also the Kanima, Gerard, Lydia and Peter. Although they all somehow manage to make it out alive, the Alpha pack are suddenly gunning for him and his pack. The only shining light at the end of the tunnel was finding out Cora was still alive. He’s not sure why or how but he doesn’t question it.

But in gaining Cora, he loses Erica and then Boyd. He falls for the wrong girl _again_ and again, he feels the weight of the world leaning down on him. He almost loses Cora and his knees begin to buckle under the pressure. Then Stiles becomes possessed by the Nogitsune and Allison dies and they all barely make it out alive.

In the end, he survives—albeit barely. Then Kate happens all over again, he loses his wolf, becomes human, gets hunted by assassins for the price on his head, and _dies_. That’s the final straw. As soon as they’d defeated the Berserkers, Derek takes one look at the destruction around him and makes the decision to leave.

He has one thing on his bucket list; survive. He can’t do that in Beacon Hills.

So he looks at Scott and Lydia and Kira and Malia and they all know; Derek can’t stay in Beacon Hills anymore. He pointedly doesn’t look at Stiles because he knows if he did, he’d never leave. Derek gets in his Toyota, drops Braeden off at the Calaveras’ bar, and drives away.

He stays away for ten years. He starts by going back to New York and clearing all the stuff he and Laura had left behind in the old apartment. He invites Cora to come visit and together, they go through the entire apartment, sorting things in the _keep, donate,_ and _throw away_ piles. It takes them a full weekend but they manage to do it just fine.

Cora asks him if he wants to move to South America with him but he declines the offer, just as he had every time she’s asked since leaving the first time around. She never stops asking and he never accepts.

She leaves after staying with him for a few months and he ends up living in New York for a few years, during which he gets intermittent updates from Scott and Lydia and sometimes even Malia about their lives. Kira’s the only one who calls him, the others just text him, but it’s Stiles that he doesn’t hear from at all.

He gets radio silence from Stiles and figures maybe he needs the space; god knows, that’s what Derek wanted after Laura’s death. So he doesn’t call and doesn’t ask the others about him either. He trusts Scott to call him the second anything serious happens so he takes solace in understanding that if nobody mentions him then he’s doing fine. That’s all that Derek wants anyways.

None of the kids got the chance to be just kids, especially Stiles, so if he’s getting the chance to have a normal life, he deserves that chance. The last thing Derek wants is to unleash all his baggage on someone barely trying to make it out of the rubble.

But some day…who knows? The thought gives Derek something to strive for. He thinks of Stiles, remembering the foolish courage in the face of grave danger and how after everything he’s seen and been through, Stiles can still laugh. That’s what gets Derek the most—despite everything, Stiles has the ability to find reasons to be happy.

And it’s exactly what Derek uses as his new starting point.

During his sixth year of New York, he gets pictures from Melissa of the pack graduating from college. He gets the pictures throughout the span of a couple of months since Scott and Stiles were the only ones who went to the same college. He gets one of Lydia, standing tall and proud in front of front steps of the main MIT building, one of Malia standing in front of the graduation hall at Chapman, and one of Scott and Stiles jumping mid-air below Sather Gate at Berkley.

He texts everyone a simple _congrats_ and prints out all the pictures, putting them up on the fridge in the apartment.

That’s the end of that, at least for the next few months until Derek finds Laura’s passport in one of the smaller boxes he and Cora missed the first time around. He thumbs through it, fingers brushing over the different country stamps and in a fit of impulsivity, he buys himself a one-way ticket to Budapest on a flight departing one week later.

He knows he made the right decision when he finds Laura’s Moleskine travel journal so he packs it along with her passport and takes off to Budapest.

* * *

Derek travels for the next couple of years. He’s got more than enough money and for once, he doesn’t feel guilty using the insurance money to fund his traveling. It’s the one way he can honour his parents’ and Laura’s memories.

He moves from city to city every couple of weeks and despite having all the money in the world, he settles for staying most nights in hostels or couchsurfing through random people’s apartments, making a few friends along the way.

From Budapest, it’s Zagreb, then Graz, Vienna, and Prague. It’s not until he goes to Warsaw that he feels the dull ache of something missing deep inside him. At first he doesn’t know what it is; with every passing day, Derek feels a pull in the pit of his stomach and it’s not until he sees a cafe called Stilinski Cafe & Bakery that he realizes what was missing; Stiles.

When he sees the cafe for the first time, he almost bowls over some guy in his rush into the cafe because if there’s a chance…

There’s no Stiles. The cafe is clearly a family-run place but it’s not the Stilinski he wants and well, Derek isn’t ready for that realization. Not ready to realize that there’s a Stilinski he _does_ want. He gets a latte to help ease the hammering of his heart in his chest and a small pastry to soothe the burn.

He stays in Warsaw the longest out of all the other cities and visits the cafe at least once a day; long enough for the barista to ask him, “Your usual again then, Derek?”

Eventually, he does leave Warsaw, flying out to Copenhagen one early Monday morning. By the time he makes it around Denmark, it’s September and that autumn season, he spends wandering around the cobblestone streets of Sweden and Denmark and reveling in the beautiful ever-changing colours of the leaves.

Derek leaves Stockholm only because he’s seen everything there is to see and done everything there is to do. While the original plan was to go a bit further south for the colder months, something in him pulls him to Scotland instead. He has no idea what or why but it’s an instinct he can’t ignore so when he’s booking his next flight, instead of typing in Rome as the destination city, he types Edinburgh and that’s that.

* * *

The first few days in Edinburgh are beautiful; it’s cold and rainy most days and the weather is never consistent so he ends up lugging around a rain jacket everyday but he doesn’t mind because he falls in love with the architecture and atmosphere. Everything seems easier still in Edinburgh; the people are kinder, friendlier, and he can count on one hand the amount of times he’s gone to a local pub and came out without exchanging a few laughs with the locals.

The air in Edinburgh is different; more fresh and light. It’s not until Derek’s rounding out his first week that he feels as light as the air he breathes. His mind feels more clear and thoughts aren’t as jumbled as they used to be. Even more bizarre, when strangers nod and smile at him, he mimics their actions right back, feeling a touch taken back when he realizes his smiles are genuine.  

There’s a feeling of warmth rising in his chest that Derek doesn’t anticipate and the more he pays more attention to himself, the more changes he begins to see. He smiles wider, laughs often, enjoys the little things in life. He doesn’t look over his shoulder anymore and there’s no hurry in his steps. When he sits down to eat, he savours each bite, relishing the flavours embedded in the food and while he still works out diligently, it’s no longer with the intention to dull emotional pain; now, it’s just to keep healthy and stay in shape.

Two weeks later, he still doesn’t understand what it is but he feels stable in the city, more than he’s felt in any others.

It’s a small city but one that’s so deeply engorged with culture, history, and literature that Derek has yet to feel satisfied enough to move on. And so, a month later, he’s still in Edinburgh. He ends up renting an apartment through AirBnB on a monthly basis near the heart of the city and that’s enough. He has no need for a car and on days where he feels like he wants to explore other regions, he rents a car for the day or the weekend and takes off.

On days when Derek has nothing special planned, he camps out at a local coffeeshop on the Royal Mile, writing freelance articles for various online sites here and there. It’s a hobby he’s always been fond of and while he never had the propensity for creative fiction like his dad, he did have good enough skills to become an amateur travel writer.

One particular afternoon when he was heading down to the coffeeshop, he got an eerily familiar whiff of a scent in the air. He looked around but it was a busy Monday afternoon and with the work rush, he couldn’t pin point the source any further. Besides, he could see his usual table from the street and the cafe looked way too busy for someone not to snag it so he rushes into the shop and sets up his makeshift work station.

Derek writes for six hours straight, writing about his recent trip to Isle of Skye and the nearby small local towns that visitors _must_ stop for fantastic photographic viewpoints, interspersed with short breaks for lunch and bit of light reading to get his juices flowing again. There’s no deadline he has to make for this blog but he’s planning on travelling the upcoming weekend for another three-day tour so he wants to get the article out of the way.

“Can I grab anything for you, Derek?” Katy, the usual closing barista asks, as she wipes down the table next to his.

“Just on my way out now, actually, thanks,” Derek says, shuffling all the papers together and sliding them behind his laptop. Katy smiles and waves goodbye. Derek slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and walks out, sighing in relief at the quietened streets.

It’s almost six by the time he makes it out, the perfect time to see the beginnings of the sunset on his walk home. There’s still a fair bit of a crowd on the streets, but most of it is just tourists and the odd homeless person setting up a sleeping bag. He barely makes it to the top of the Royal Mile when he freezes, catching the same scent as he had in the morning. Derek turns around, scenting the air as subtly as he can, trying to make it seem like maybe he just got lost.

That’s when he hears it; the loud laugh, the kind that seems like it’s coming from the stomach, deep and full. It sounds achingly familiar and he follows the sound until he sees a small white mini-coach across the street. There’s a myriad of scents pouring out of the mini-coach but one stands far above the rest; a sharp mixture of cinnamon, the forest, and earth with a bit of spicy musk.

Derek crosses the street, the scent getting strong enough to overwhelm his senses. The last of the tourists leaves, waves of fatigue yet joy emanating from them, but the door to the trunk of the vehicle is still open so Derek walks closer, heart beating loudly in his chest. Just as he’s about to peek around the door, it gets shut with a slam and Derek’s movements stutter to a stop.

“Derek?” Stiles says, mouth dropping open. Derek remains rooted to the spot, raising his arms barely in time for Stiles to jump into them. “Holy shit! What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Derek says finally, squeezing Stiles just a bit tighter before letting go. He manfully resists the urge to bring Stiles back into his arms and sticking his nose into Stiles’s throat to scent him. Once Stiles moves back, Derek takes the chance to rake his eyes up and down his frame; it’s painfully obvious how different Stiles is now. His hair is longer, neatly styled, but just as dark; big Bambi eyes full of happiness with a bit of exhaustion; skin still so milky smooth with just as many moles dotting his face, if not more. But Stiles is standing taller, head held high, and doesn’t look like he’s crumbling under the weight of the world around him.

“Grad school,” Stiles answers, smiling.

Derek nods. “In Edinburgh of all places?”

“Mom’s family was from here. Like they were Polish but her parents, so my grandparents, moved to Scotland when she was three and stayed here until they moved to Georgia when she turned fifteen. She always told me stories about how beautiful this place was and we always planned to come back here when I was older so she could show me around.” Stiles’s scent goes a bit sour then but the feeling quickly dissipates. “What’s your excuse?”

Derek shrugs casually. “Travelling. Started off in Budapest a couple of years ago and been making my way around slowly.”

Stiles whistles, impressed. “Couple of years? Dude, you must have awesome stories!”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek reminds him, as if on cue. He nods to the mini-coach. “You done for the day?

“Just about. Gotta go back and drop the thing off. It’s actually my last day working.”

“Didn’t like it much?”

“Nah, it’s great but took too much away from school. Now that I’m in my last year, I gotta strap down on my thesis, y’know?”

Derek doesn’t; he never even finished college but he nods anyways. “Sure. I live just around the block so I can wait and we can head to my place for dinner maybe? I was planning on making some pasta carbonara.” It’s easy to make, one of Derek’s favourite dishes, and something that will easily give him a couple of days worth of meals.

“Aw, man, that sounds amazing,” Stiles says with awe, and Derek just has to chuckle because he doesn’t think anyone would get so excited over pasta. “I haven’t had a decent home-cooked meal in so long! Between working as a guide and being a lowly grad student, I live on fast food.”

“Jesus, yeah, go drop the car off and meet me back here. I’ll wait,” Derek says, rolling his eyes. Stiles winks at him, grinning happily, and waves him goodbye as he gets into the car and speeds off. It’s only when Derek sees the car round off around the corner, blissfully out of sight, that he releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Stiles looks…weirdly beautiful, confidence seeping out of him in waves. The last time Derek had seen Stiles was in Mexico and while looked to be doing fine, it didn’t mean that he actually was. But the years past have done wonders on him, and Derek can’t wait to peel back enough layers to see more.

Derek waits around for another fifteen minutes, oddly nervous at the thought of taking Stiles to his apartment, of spending time together after so long, before he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Ready to go?” Stiles asks when he turns around.

The walk to his apartment is barely twenty minutes but with Stiles, it feels like eons. They don’t converse much, both walking mostly in silence. Derek sneaks a few glances at Stiles, wondering why he’s been so unnaturally quiet. At first, he thinks Stiles might be nervous or apprehensive of being around Derek but his heart remains steady and there’s no underlying sourness in his scent. Stiles is just that quiet now.

Derek’s not sure he likes it.

They get to his apartment and Derek smiles at his neighbour, Mr. Singh, when they pass each other on the stairs.

“Doin’ alright, lad?” Mr. Singh asks, just as he always does but this time, he peers at Stiles. “I see you’ve got a friend with ya!”

“My name’s Stiles,” Stiles offers.

“We’ve known each other for a while now,” Derek supplies.

“Alright then, that’s quite bonnie bonnie!” Mr. Singh nods. “Old friends are somewhat of a treasure, make sure yuh remember that, yeah, lads?”

Both Derek and Stiles laugh quietly, nodding all the same, before Mr. Singh waves them goodbye.

“He seems like an interesting character.”

“He is.”

Derek opens the door to his apartment, dropping the keys and his wallet onto the small glass bowl by the door. He hangs up his leather jacket on the hook beside it and tidies up his living room while Stiles gets comfortable.

“I’m going to get the carbonara started,” Derek says, moving into the kitchen and taking all the necessary ingredients out of the fridge. Normally he’d start up an episode of whatever show he’s watching on Netflix but he wants Stiles to fill in the silence today. “Feel free to wash up and take a look around.”

“Can’t remember the last time you actually let people just into your space like this,” Stiles mentions casually as he pokes around the bookshelves in the living room. The shelves are lined with various books, some Derek likes to read for fun and others he uses sometimes for his freelance writing when he’s hit a writers’ block.

“You’re not most people,” Derek settles in saying, busying himself with getting the pasta prepped if only to avoid the look of surprise Stiles shoots him before turning his attention back to the bookshelf. He starts with the carbonara sauce, all the while keeping an eye as Stiles picks through his books.

“You seem pretty happy,” Stiles mentions and the bluntness of the statement surprises Derek.

“Um…sorry?” Because what else can someone say to that?

Stiles snorts. “I just didn’t expect it.”

“That I can be happy?”

Derek finishes with grating the cheese and starts on the eggs, adding a pinch of pepper as he goes.

“That you made a conscious decision to be happy.”

The words punch him in the gut, wind getting knocked out of him, and the momentum he has whilst beating the eggs stutters but he resumes the speed. He’s not sure what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything until Stiles turns around and quirks a brow at him.

“Sorry, was that too direct?” He gives a sheepish smile, suddenly looking all of fifteen years old. The eggs are ready so Derek moves to the stove to start with the bacon and it takes only thirty seconds before the sizzling starts and the tell-tale aroma of bacon permeates the air. “That smells delicious, oh my God!”

Suddenly, Stiles is crowding him, leaning towards the pan and taking deep lungfuls. “Missed bacon, did you?” Derek teases.

“You have no idea. I’m still on a hunt to find the perfect piece of bacon, y’know.”

“Because not all the bacon is the same?” Derek knows it’s not but it’s fun to see Stiles get passionate about something. His eyes always light up with something akin to a fire, all serious and determined. As expected, Stiles squawks indignantly, like how dare Derek not think bacon is serious business.

“Um, yeah! The bacon has have the perfect ratio of crispiness, the greasiness, and scent. A lot of places burn the bacon and burnt bacon is disgusting, you hear me? It’s disgusting. They try to go for crispy but there’s a difference between crispy and burnt!” Stiles rolls his eyes, huffing. He narrows his eyes at Derek. “You better not feed me burnt bacon, Derek. There’s a serious technique to this so don’t fuck it up.”

Derek motions to the pan, almost giddy at the peek of old Stiles he’s getting to see. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. Would you like to cook it instead?”

He doesn’t expect Stiles to smirk and push him out of the way but he does. “Go get the rest ready and I’ll take care of this.”

Slowly all the flavours of the carbonara mesh together as Stiles adds the pasta, the garlic, and the few chopped vegetables while Derek adds the cheese and egg mixture to the pan. A couple of minutes later, they have a pan piled high with pasta carbonara that Stiles puts on the breakfast table while Derek takes out the dishes and forks for them.

They move around each other easily, like they’ve been doing it for years.

It feels like home.

“Anything to drink?” Derek asks, eyeing what he has in the fridge. “I’ve got beer, juice, and water. No pop.”

“Of course you don’t have pop. Probably get in the way of your muscles having muscles.” Stiles smiles. “I’ll take water though, thanks.”

Derek rolls his eyes, grabbing some water for them before joining Stiles at the table. Stiles already has a generous helping on his plate that he looks like he’s writing poetry about and even served Derek some.

“I’m actually so excited for this right now,” Stiles whispers. He looks at Derek, eyes full of worship and gratitude and Derek has to keep himself from laughing out loud. It’s ridiculous (and a little sad) how grateful Stiles looks for a simple home-cooked meal but Derek will take it.

They eat mostly in silence, with Stiles breaking it every once in a while to catch him up on what’s going on back home and what happened after Derek left. It’s not all good but it’s been a lot better in the past couple of years. Good enough for Stiles to consider coming to Edinburgh for a year and a half just for school.

“Even met up with Jackson just a few weeks ago actually.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at that. It never escaped him that Jackson was still in London but he didn’t think things between Stiles and Jackson ever got okay enough for them to warrant meeting up.

As if Stiles knows what he’s thinking, he continues, “Yeah, weird, I know, but he’s been alright actually. Came to Beacon Hills last year to see everyone and we ended up getting drunk together and talking about all the shit that happened in high school. He’s the one that talked me into coming to Edinburgh, believe it or not.”

“Didn’t know you guys were so close,” Derek muses. Stiles shrugs, taking another bite of the pasta.

“We grew up,” Stiles answers simply and Derek nods in agreement. He doesn’t know about Jackson but Stiles certainly has.

The rest of the meal passes relatively quickly. There’s enough pasta left to pack some in a tupperware for Stiles and have leftovers for the next day so while Stiles starts cleaning up (“You cooked for me AND voluntarily hugged me. Least I can do is clean!” Stiles says, rolling his eyes), he does the meal prep for himself.

Twenty minutes later, he and Stiles move to the small balcony, a beer in hand, and settle down on the cool concrete. His balcony faces one of the more crowded streets so even the silence isn’t all that quiet. His balcony is a bit cozy so he slides the door close and they sit down, pressing against each other.

It’s fairly cold outside but he doesn’t feel the chill. Maybe it’s because he’s a werewolf or because Stiles’s close proximity surrounds him with warmth; either way, it’s hard to tell.

“S’nice here,” Stiles says, taking a swig of the beer. He motions to the street below. “Good crowd, good city. People are pretty awesome too.”

Derek nods. “Yeah. I was only going to stay here for a couple of weeks, to be honest.”

Stiles turns to him, full of curiosity. “What changed?”

Derek shrugs. “Dunno. Felt like I wasn’t done with the city yet. Something kept me from leaving.”

He doesn’t add that he realizes the feeling may have something largely to do with Stiles. Of course, he didn’t know it at the time but it makes sense now. Ever since Stiles and Scott first came into the Preserve to hunt for the inhaler, there was just something about Stiles. Something that pulled Derek to where they were, something that made him pick up the lost inhaler if only just to give him a reason to speak to them.

Derek peers at Stiles, whose attention is focused on the street again. They’re magnets, he thinks, polar opposites forever unable to resist each other, like the moon pulling at a tide.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says quietly, pulling Derek from his thoughts. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“Hm?” Derek asks, confused.

“About you being happy,” he clarifies, cheeks pinking. He resolutely doesn’t look at Derek.

“You were right, though,” Derek offers. At this, Stiles turns to him again, surprise clear as day on his face.

“You’re voluntarily admitting I was right?”

“Asshole,” Derek says fondly. He takes a drink and shrugs. “You were though.”

They fall quiet again for a few moments, probably a couple of minutes but it feels like hours to Derek.

“I’m glad you all made it out alive.” Derek breaks the silence. He ignores the way Stiles whirls to him. “Beacon Hills—it’s not a nice town and all of you deserved so much more. More than a rabid werewolf going bite crazy and a broken wolf trying to start a pack when he had no idea what the hell he was doing.”

Stiles opens his mouth like he’s about to argue but this is something Derek has to get out so he raises his hand and his mouth closes, allowing Derek to continue.

“I always regretted leaving to an extent. Felt like a hypocrite, really. I chased Scott for months, asking him to join my pack, and when the tables were turned, I walked away. I left you all to deal with the worst and it’s just—that’s not what I should have done. I should have helped, made sure a bunch of teenagers survived to see their graduation day at the least.”

“Okay, wow, no,” Stiles interrupts passionately. The fire in his eyes is evident and every part of his body seems like he’s ready to fight Derek tooth and nail on this. “I’m going to stop you right there, dude, because there is nothing you could have done. You were there for the biggest parts, Derek. You were the reason we survived Peter and the Kanima and Gerard and the fucking Argents. You went to Jennifer and made a deal, yeah, I bet you had no idea I knew about that little bit of information, didn’t you? You helped us with the Alphas even after they—“ he cuts off, biting his lips and looking away.

_After they killed Erica and forced Derek to kill Boyd_ goes unsaid but not unheard.

“You did more for us than any of us did for you,” Stiles admits, looking away with something akin to shame. “We were the ones that had you arrested _twice_ , put you in a position where you had to kill your own uncle, had you and your pack shot at several times, and so much more. You got beat down and broken because of us one way or another. You deserved to leave and we all knew that.”

Derek’s throat dries. Every breath he takes is hard; like he’s drowning under eight feet of water and there’s no more air left for him to take. Think what he might about Stiles, he’s never ready for Stiles to say anything good about him.

“Wanna know a secret?” Stiles asks and his tone piques Derek’s interest. Even in the dark, he can tell his cheeks are glowing a faint red. “After we all dealt with the Nogitsune, dad actually told me about everything you did for me during that time. How you went to Chris and threatened him to not hurt me, how you looked him dead in the eye and told him you weren’t going to run away from a fox, how you didn’t sleep for days because you were always trying to find me.

“I had a hard time because for a long time, the bad stuff just didn’t end. After the Nogitsune, it was the Dread Doctors and chimeras and the Beast. There was always _something_ , y’know?” Stiles smiles wryly. He fidgets with the beer bottle before pausing to take a drink. “Wanna know what got me through all that? You did.”

If he notices how fast Derek’s head whips to him, he doesn’t mention it.

“Every time things got rough, I always asked myself, ‘What would Derek do?’ How would he protect our pack? How would he deal with the situation? And it helped. Knowing you and knowing everything you’ve done for us, the sheer amount of courage you’ve shown is incredible and awe-inspiring.

“You’re strong, Derek, so strong. Even when you became a human, you never stopped putting yourself in harm’s way. You saved Scott and Kira from the Berserkers and when you didn’t have your claws, you picked up a gun even though you hate guns. You practically lost the biggest part of yourself and yet you fought with us against the assassins. You could have left then, any other wolf probably would have, but you didn’t. So the next time you feel like a hypocrite, remember what I just said because you’re anything but.”

Silence falls between them yet again and Derek has nothing—he’s got nothing to say. The whole world around him falls quiet. His head buzzes with all sorts of confusion and wonderment, ears ringing loudly against the sound of cars honking and mindless conversations floating above from the street.

“When I was younger, I had a bucket list,” Derek says after a while, surprising himself even. “It used to have all these things like making captain of the basketball team and getting a date for the homecoming dance.”

This evokes a chuckle from Stiles and Derek drinks in the sound greedily.

“One of the biggest things on the list though was to travel. My parents had travelled all over and raved about their experience and then Laura did it too after she graduated from college. It was going to be my turn next.” He gives a wry smile to Stiles. “You know what happened next. Almost overnight, my bucket list went from travelling, having a family, being happy to just surviving.”

His voice is quiet by now, afraid to say the words any louder than he has to. Stiles shuffles a bit closer even though they were pressed together tightly to begin with. It’s probably so he can hear Derek better but he thinks it might also be Stiles’s attempt at supporting him silently, using a wolf’s need for tactile behaviour during difficult times to help.

“I left for New York to do that; I wanted to survive. Cora and I already lost each other once; it was time for us to live for one another. I can’t lose her anymore than she can lose me so I left.”

“I get that. It’s the same with me and my dad, y’know. It’s why I’m still in Beacon Hills, fighting to keep the town alive. My dad won’t ever leave because of all the memories he has with my mom and the last thing I want is to lose him to something I could have protected him from,” Stiles says.

“I’m sorry I never kept in touch,” Derek says instead. Stiles stills beside him. “I never said goodbye to you and never called you. I should have, if only to make sure you were doing alright.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, you should have, but I trust that you had a good reason not to so it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Derek denies furiously. “It does matter, because if Scott hadn’t kept me in the loop about you, I would—I wouldn’t have known what was going on with you until it was too late.”

“Too late for what?” Stiles looks at him openly.

“To save you? I don’t know.”

“We already went through this, Der,” Stiles answers tiredly. “You did save me.”

Derek wonders when he went from Derek to Der in Stiles’s mind. Is it recent or is it something he’s been for some time? He wonders but doesn’t ask, just quietly hopes that it’s the latter.

“You saved me too,” Derek says instead. Stiles scoffs beside him but Derek shoots him a look that removes the self-deprecating smile from his face. “Don’t, okay? Earlier today, you said it seemed like I made a conscious decision to be happy. That’s what you did for me. You gave me a reason to be happy.”

He knows the moment the gravity of the words hits Stiles. Stiles rears back in surprise, making Derek mourn the loss of warmth, but the degree to which Stiles flails makes him grin; some things never change.

“I did _what_?” Stiles squeaks, flushing tomato red.

“You made me want to be happy,” Derek repeats with a nonchalant shrug. “You were always laughing, even when things got rough. You were always like this shining beacon of positivity—okay, _most_ of the time,” he amends at Stiles’s incredulous look. “But the sentiment’s there.”

“I felt like a failure,” Stiles confesses.

“You’re anything but. Most humans I know would have crumbled under the weight. You carried the whole world on your shoulders and did it with a smile on your face. If you said I gave you strength, it’s only because you gave me mine in the first place. It just took me a while to notice that.”

When Derek turns back to look at him, Stiles looks like the picture perfect version of a gaping fish, beer long forgotten in front of him. Despite feeling like he just confessed his biggest secret (which he might as well have), he doesn’t feel all that different. It is nice to finally say something he’s been keeping to himself out loud but it needed to be said and that’s all that matters.

“I—you can’t just say things like that,” Stiles stutters, eyes wide and unblinking. Derek can hear the loud rabbiting of his heart, can smell the dull scent of anxiety and nervousness seeping from him.

“Sure I can, if it’s the truth,” Derek answers easily. He waits patiently for Stiles to calm down, who now looks like he’s having an internal struggle with himself, one that Derek’s clearly not privy to. So he waits and finishes off the rest of his beer before setting the bottle off to the side.

He turns back to check on Stiles and as soon as he does, he feels a cold press of lips on his, only for a brief second before they’re pulling away. But no, that’s not what—

Derek catches Stiles’s wrist, steadying him. Stiles looks flushed and unsure, the anxiety giving away to waves of embarrassment, so Derek squeezes his wrist before intertwining their fingers together. Stiles looks at their hands in awe, like he can’t believe what’s happening so when he focuses back on Derek, Derek slowly leans into his space and kisses him.

It’s only supposed to be a short, chaste kiss but then Stiles opens his mouth and all of Derek’s resolve disappears as he takes the cue to deepen the kiss. There’s no fireworks or sparks of electricity as their lips move together in tandem but Derek’s rather okay with that. Sparks and fireworks are full of passion and the idea of now. This though, this kiss is full of the promise of tomorrow.

They pull apart when breathing becomes bit of a problem but remain close enough to lean their foreheads together as they gain their bearings. Derek ducks in for another kiss, unable to resist, before pulling away again. He sees how Stiles’s lips curl into a smile, lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach, and the whole world falls away again.

As he stares at the unabashed smile Stiles gives him, Derek realizes another thing.

Ten years after leaving Beacon Hills, the only item on his bucket list finally changes from _survive_ to _find happiness with Stiles._

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up at: [tumblr](http://hales-republic.tumblr.com) // [twitter](http://twitter.com/halesrepublic). 
> 
> Send me prompts, flail with me over Hoechlin's eyes, let's be friends - the whole shebang.


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